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what has spring done to me, in the middle of winter, with skin so thick i can barely feel them. i have to die a few more times tonight. to let the cherry blossoms brush against the best parts of me. the whole. the wandering lust that moves through days like hours and minutes, only to find the years in between. softly, slowly. with breath and precision. the kind that carelessness brings. i drift in and out of your body like a breeze that slams the door shut and opens it again. there is a sweet bird of youth that sings throughout the ages. there is a sentence that is in between the lines. and there is a car in the driveway.